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Fowl Mouthed

, , , , | Right | August 26, 2008

Me: “How can I help you?”

Customer: “I want lunch meat.”

Me: *grinning* “You’ve come to the right place!”

Customer: “I don’t appreciate your attitude, you f****** b****!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “I’m paying for your brown a** to live here!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m Irish. And I’ve lived here my entire life.”

Customer: “GIVE ME SOME F****** TURKEY!”

Me: “What type of turkey would you like?”

Customer: “Plain!”

Me: “Cooked? Smoked? Oven Roasted? Fat-free? We also have a wide selection of gourmet turkeys, such as honey maple and tomato basil.”

Customer: “My kid won’t eat that fancy s***! I just want some f****** turkey!”

(The store manager has been standing behind her the entire time and speaks up.)

Manager: “Cooked? Smoked? Oven Roasted? Fat-Free? She gave you the types. Just f****** pick a flavour so she can serve me so I can take my lunch!”

Customer: “F*** THIS COUNTRY!”

Sorry, You’ve Just Exceeded Our Stupid Quota

, , | Right | August 21, 2008

(It was an hour before closing, and all of us were very tired; the manager included.)

Me: “Hi, how may I help you?”

Customer: “What does the chicken sandwich look like?” *points at a picture of it*

Me: “It looks just like the one in the picture, ma’am.”

Customer: “Are you sure? How long have you been working here?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I’m sure. I’ve been working here for over a year.”

Customer: “Well, um… I guess I’ll get that one.”

(I take her money and give her the chicken sandwich.)

Customer: “This is not what it looks like!”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “Get me your manager, d*** it!”

Manager: “Yes, ma’am?”

Customer: “This chicken sandwich is not like in the picture!”

Manager: “Yes, you’re right. The one the picture is over a foot wide and fake.”

Customer: “I will not stand for this!”

Manager: “Neither will I. Leave my employees alone!”

Customer: *starts screaming*

Manager: “You have a happy-go-lucky day now, ma’am!”

Tellin’ It Like It Is

, , , | Right | August 17, 2008

Me: “Hello! Welcome to [restaurant].”

(I begin pouring water, as is customary at any restaurant.)

Woman: “We didn’t ASK for water.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am. Should I bring you something else?”

Woman: *sighs* “No! No! No! Fine! We’ll take the darn water.”

(I proceed to bring her the food, and she complains incessantly about everything she can think of until finally, her entree comes out.)

Woman: “This isn’t what I ordered.”

Me: “Ma’am, this is what you ordered. I can show you the bill… it’s clearly written that this is what you ordered.”

Woman: “No it’s not! I DID NOT ORDER THIS!”

Me: “You did now…”

Woman: *to husband* “Come on, let’s leave!”

Husband: “Why? Because you’re being a pain?”

Dr. Jekyll And Mrs. Hyde

, , , | Right | August 14, 2008

Me: “Thank you for calling. This is [My Name]. How may I help you today?”

Customer: *cheerful* “I need you to check my account.”

Me: “Certainly, I’d be happy to do that for you. May I have your identification number so I can look you up in our system, please?”

Customer: “My what? Why would you want that? Don’t you know who I am?”

Me: “Unfortunately not, ma’am. We have no real way of knowing who is on the other end of the line unless you give us either that number or your social security number.”

Customer: *suddenly demonic* “HOW DARE YOU! YOU’RE ONE OF THOSE TERRORISTS, AREN’T YOU?!”

Me: “Um… excuse me?”

Customer: “YOU want my social so you can steal my identity, don’t you? That’s why you called me, to steal my credit score, you little punk!”

Me: “Ma’am, you called me. This is your insurance company. Just read me the number on the front of your card so I can look up your account information.”

Customer: *suddenly cheerful again* “Oh, is that all? Why didn’t you just say so? My number is [number].”

Me: “Ma’am, it seems your account is handled by a different department than mine. Would you like me to give you their direct number before I transfer you?”

Customer: *back to demonic* “YOU TRICKED ME! You tricked me out of my information! I’m calling the FBI on you, you little c***!”

Me: *transfers call*

(I have never been so happy to transfer a caller. I logged the call, and later that day received an internal office email from some rep in another part of the state. All it said was “WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?”)

Fowl Behavior, Part 2

, , , , | Right | August 13, 2008

(At the deli where I work, every couple hours I cook up between 12 and 20 whole chickens. They’re kept in the hot holding cabinet for customers to grab.)

Customer: “I need ten.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “These whole chickens. I need ten of them.”

Me: “I’m sorry, that’s all we have, because we’re closing soon.”

Customer: *rolls her eyes and takes absolutely everything left out of the holding cabinet*

(Another customer approaches me soon afterward.)

Another Customer: “Excuse me, that lady just grabbed a chicken out of my hands, claiming it was hers. Will there be any more?”

(Yes, that’s right. The first lady was going around taking chickens from other customers. Unbelievable.)